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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077227">To Move Forward</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opuscule_Owl/pseuds/Opuscule_Owl'>Opuscule_Owl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Found Family, One Shot Collection, Post Doomsday War on Dream SMP, Some violence in flashbacks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 10:21:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077227</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opuscule_Owl/pseuds/Opuscule_Owl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A few scenes depicting the three characters of the Arctic Anarchist Alliance and how they are coping after the destruction of L'Manburg.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>No Romantic Relationship(s), Ranboo &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo &amp; Technoblade &amp; Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Ranboo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is based on a collection of headcanons. I approached this with the idea that Technoblade is not Philza's son, but an old war buddy or perhaps an old apprentice.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A soft crunch accompanied every footstep that Ranboo took as he trekked across the snow-laden ground. The sound had become a sort of comfort to him, a symbol of the new home that he had found. He felt safe here, despite the isolation and the empty land that expanded to the horizon. The small gathering of quaint buildings that made up the three-person society that he was now a part of put him at ease.<br/>
<br/>
Perhaps society was not the correct term. While Philza, Techno, and he often worked together and pooled resources, there was still a strong essence of individualism. They went on adventures together when they needed each other, and kept to themselves when they had separate tasks to accomplish.<em> This is how it should be</em>, Ranboo thought, <em> We’re together but we aren’t really a side. We’re just sort of...living.</em> Then again, as he exited the forest and saw the wooden structures that were currently not occupied, his mind instinctually drifted to thoughts of L’Manburg. He would never understand the undying loyalty so many showed to the country, but he would also never forget his first day as a citizen, as Tubbo showed off the efforts to rebuild post-war, eyes shining with an untampered pride. Ironic as it was, it was only now that Ranboo could begin to see the draw of the small nation. His memories were few and hazy at best, but to the best of his knowledge, for all L’Manburg’s faults, there was no shortage of people and excitement. Of course, this eventually led to a large scale conflict and corruption. But before the conflict, it was a home. It was his first home.<br/>
<br/>
Ranboo shook his head, breaking free from his memories. <em>L’manburg is gone now</em>, he reminded himself, <em> This is your home. L’manburg was never meant to be.</em> He had now reached the shack-like structure he was using as a base. Opening the creaky wooden gate, he smiled and greeted Ranbun. It was strange how the spruce ceiling jutting out from the side of a mountain that managed to humbly cover his few belongings was all that he needed to feel like he had settled. It was quiet here. It felt like the entire world had gone up in flames a few days ago but now the silence seemed to permeate every corner of the world. As if there was some sort of unspoken mourning. Even those who lost the most, who had the most reasons to cry out, quietly gathered themselves up and began moving forward. Ranboo couldn’t speak for anyone else, but he wanted the silence to stay.<br/>
<br/>
The familiar crunch of snow beneath someone’s boots caused Ranboo to turn around and look out into the distance. A figure was walking back towards Techno’s house. Ranboo wandered in front of his shack to see who it was, and identified the unmistakable silhouette of Philza, returning from whatever mission or journey he had been on. Ranboo began waving in an attempt to get Phil’s attention. After a rather awkward couple of seconds, Phil was finally close enough to look up and see Ranboo clearly. Cracking a comforting smile, he called out a cheerful “You doing alright?” Ranboo called back an affirmative response, causing Phil’s smile to grow even wider.<br/>
<br/>
Once he was closer, Phil saw the makeshift shelter that Ranboo had created and the small wheat farm that had been planted to feed him in Phil and Techno’s absence. Seeing the direction of Phil’s gaze, Ranboo attempted to explain that the shelter was meant to be temporary and that he didn’t want to be constantly living off of the charity of the other two, but Phil cut him off with a hearty laugh. “You’ve been busy,” Phil said, “I like it. Very quaint.” Coming from anyone else, the comment might have been seen as an insult, but Ranboo knew that Phil meant it as a genuine compliment. He stood in silence as Phil calmly assessed Ranboo’s work with his eyes. In moments like this, where Phil was still and paternal, where he was separated from the daring, adventurous legend he had been forever associated with, Ranboo could see the years reflected upon the man’s face. What would be seen as experience to be feared in a battle scenario, he could now see was truly weariness that accompanies one who has lived longer than the other people that surround them.<br/>
<br/>
Ranboo had slowly started to notice this side of Techno and Phil since the destruction. During the height of action, they were both unstoppable forces, legends in their own right, men brimming with power and eyes shining with the adrenaline of war. But out here, with no one but Ranboo to see them, the other side of such power began to show itself. Many times, Ranboo would see Phil and Techno exchange quick glances that seemed to communicate things that Ranboo would never understand. In the dead space between good-hearted quips or small victories, Ranboo could feel a weight that was shared between them. Slowly, he started to recognize that Philza and Technoblade were men that carried the burden of living in a world that seemed incapable of letting them live and die the way others do.<br/>
<br/>
Phil’s gentle voice broke Ranboo away from his morbid musings. “I suppose I should get to work on the kennel so I can help you get a real house, huh?” Ranboo chuckled and Phil, evidently sensing agreement, began making his way back to the main house. As Ranboo watched him leave, he was reminded of why he trusted Phil more than possibly anyone else he had met. Ranboo was aware of the things Phil had done, was aware that it was naive to classify the people of this world into the narrow categories of “good” or “bad”. But despite all that he had seen and participated in, Phil retained a gentleness that Ranboo had yet to see elsewhere. Certainly, folks like Tubbo had been kind and welcoming, had engaged in many acts of goodwill that one could mistake for other qualities. But they all held their painful memories outside of them, and you could see and feel the armor of their hurt as it radiated from their chest. Phil, as if trying to protect people even from his own memories, held his pain deep within himself, only to be seen in certain creases of his age-lined face or the occasional pensive look in his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Ranboo felt a slight twinge of guilt. He was sure that Phil was protecting him as well. And he was grateful that Phil thought him worthy of protection, but it seemed unfair that Phil consumed his own emotions for the sake of others. <em>Then again</em>, Ranboo thought, <em>Maybe he does it to protect himself and I don’t factor in at all. Maybe Phil will be the one that teaches me how to live with the voices, and how to stop hurting everyone.</em><br/>
<br/>
Struck with inspiration, Ranboo reached into his chest and retrieved his trusty memory book and quill. He flipped to the first blank page, poised to write, but paused before the ink hit the paper. What words could he write that would capture this memory? He realized that maybe this was something that was beyond words, that it existed within him as a feeling, something he knew intrinsically. As the inspiration slowly faded, he placed the book back where it belonged. He was using the book less and less as the days went by. He smiled. <em>This is what it means to move forward</em>, he thought, as he turned to see the sunset on the horizon, casting an orange glow onto the snowy plains.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Philza</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Philza let out a large peal of laughter as he watched Techno once again taunt poor Ranboo, who had just been knocked over for what seemed like the hundredth time. There were a few proclamations of “Technoblade never dies!”, a characteristic flair of dramatization considering the fact that they were only sparring for the purpose of training Ranboo. And it was no secret that Techno was much more skilled than the younger boy. “C’mon, you have to go easier on me!” Ranboo exclaimed as he dusted the snow off of his armor. “You won’t learn if I go easy on you,” Techno said, eyes shining with mischief. “He won’t learn if you go all out on him either, Techno,” Phil interjected. Ranboo gave Phil a look of gratitude while Techno yelled at Phil to stay out of it.<br/>
<br/>
As the boys got back into position to start another round, Phil noticed that Techno was smiling more than he had been in the past few days. A genuine smile, not the one that he gave when facing his enemies. And as Ranboo lunged forward in an attempt to get the first hit (evidently a mistake, since Techno easily dodged it and retaliated by hitting Ranboo on the back), Phil saw that the boy was beginning to come alive again. When he had first invited Ranboo to live with them, there was a numbness, an emptiness that Ranboo exhibited. Phil assumed it was a reaction to the destruction of L’Manburg, but after watching Ranboo for a little while, he could tell it went deeper than that. But that emptiness seemed to be fading slightly, and even as he got knocked off his feet by Techno yet again, Phil could see a joyful smile flash across Ranboo’s face.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, boys,” Phil said, interrupting the insults that had been flying between the two at the conclusion of the match, “I need to go collect some wood.”<br/>
<br/>
“Phil you have to referee or he’ll cheat,” Ranboo cried.<br/>
<br/>
“Being better than you isn’t cheating,” Techno retorted in his monotonous tone. Ranboo glared and immediately began setting himself up for another match. Phil laughed as he started walking towards the forest. “Play fair, Techno!” he called out over his shoulder, but he heard a cry from Ranboo that told Phil that Techno was not likely to follow his suggestion. He listened to the sounds of clanging weapons, grunts, cries, and the occasional quip followed by laughter until it faded into the distance and he could only hear the arctic breeze blowing through the spruce trees. Once he was sure that he was far enough from the house, he stopped, placing a hand upon the rough bark of a nearby tree. Phil took a deep breath, allowing the sounds of the forest to form their melody. He clung to these moments of peace.<br/>
<br/>
Phil was finding it harder and harder to hang onto his joy. He was aware of what people said about him and he knew that Ranboo especially saw him as a selfless caretaker. And if Phil didn’t think that Ranboo needed to see him that way for his own sake, he might explain that he didn’t find people to care for out of selflessness. If anything, it was for purely selfish reasons. Wilbur, Tommy, Ranboo, and even Technoblade, were reasons for Phil to keep going. After the fall of L’Manburg, the thought that this time, maybe this time, it would be different. Maybe this time Phil wouldn’t lose anyone.<br/>
<br/>
Images began flashing in Philza’s mind, overtaking him before he could even try to keep them at bay. Words scrawled across stone walls, fireworks exploding and lighting up the dark night sky, craters covered in dust, blood running across his hands from a wound he caused.<br/>
<br/>
<em>It was never meant to be.</em><br/>
<br/>
Wilbur.<br/>
<br/>
Wilbur’s eyes when he was begging to be killed, Tommy’s cry when L’Manburg was being blown to pieces-- nothing compared to the scream he let out when he saw his brother had been killed.<br/>
<br/>
Killed by Phil.<br/>
<br/>
A cold, damp shock brought Phil back to the present and he realized that he had sunk to his knees, huddled against the base of the tree as snow permeated his thin clothes. A breeze blew by, chilling the tears on his face that had fallen without his knowledge. <em>This is what has become of the legendary Philza</em>, he thought, <em>A shivering, whimpering old man.</em> He didn’t sleep much anymore, but the images managed to haunt him while he was awake. He knew that he failed Wilbur, that he couldn’t save him from himself. Phil held out hope that Tommy wasn’t beyond saving, but he didn’t think Tommy would ever truly forgive Phil for all that he had done. Tommy was with Tubbo now, and all Phil could do was pray that they didn’t get themselves killed. And Techno. There was never really much that Phil could do to help Techno. While Phil was likely the only person that Techno truly trusted, he could do little to quell the constant conflict that Techno faced, the weight that he held on his shoulders, and the pain that he knew Techno felt from Tommy’s betrayal.<br/>
<br/>
But then there was Ranboo. When Phil found him, after the Doomsday War, he was spiraling, plagued by questions that had no answers and voices that had no physical form. He was thrown into everything, unsure about what was right and what was wrong. In a way, Phil had no reason to think that he could help. Phil doubted every single action he had made, and even he could never say for sure who was right or good. But he saw innocence in Ranboo, a boy who was frightened and torn, not unlike others that he had known. Perhaps it was foolish of him, but Phil had begun to believe that this time would actually be different. The world felt calmer. And if the only storm that he knew of was within his own soul, then that’s where it would stay. If there was even a slight chance that the world could be okay, even good, for Ranboo, then Phil would shoulder whatever burden he needed to. Just this once, he wanted to know what it felt like to know that what he had done was not in vain.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, Phil heard the rustling sounds of the forest again, instead of the ghosts that lived in his mind. He quickly stood up, suddenly aware of just how cold he had become from sitting in the snow. <em>I better actually get some wood</em>, Phil thought,<em> I don’t want them to ask questions.</em> After attempting to get the snow off of him, he took out his ax and began striking the tree closest to him. The methodical thunks of the blade colliding with the trunk reminded Phil of the simpler times, before war and tyranny, before death and destruction. After everything, here he was, gathering wood to build a home. It’s something you notice when you’ve lived as long as he has. Time after time, the world keeps turning, buildings fall and get built again, people die and people are born. Collecting the freshly chopped wood from the ground, Phil reveled in the familiarity. <em>This is what it means to move forward</em>, he thought, turning and slowly wandering back to his home, to his new purpose, his future.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Technoblade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> The sound of crackling flames filled Technoblade’s home and organic shadows danced across his walls, both of which he duly registered. He was mostly focused on drying off and was currently draping his damp red cape strategically over his mantle. Once it was positioned in a way that ensured it would get sufficient heat without burning his entire house down, he leaned against his chests, staying in range of the heat to warm himself up. His sword was set down a few feet from him, and he picked it up. Holding it to the light, he gingerly ran his fingers across it, feeling the small dents and imperfections that had been caused from the training session. He would have to fix it in the morning. Right now, he was worn out and the chill from the cold weather had settled into his limbs, rendering him stiff and uncomfortable. Techno placed his blade gently against his anvil, a reminder to himself that it needed tending to, before adjusting his position to be closer to the fire.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly, the ice wrapped around his bones began to melt away, revealing new pain in several places where Ranboo had landed solid hits during their sparring matches. Techno rolled up his sleeve to see that there was a bruise beginning to form on his bicep. He smiled at it. <em>I have to give it to the kid</em> he thought, rolling his sleeve back down, <em>He doesn’t have good form, but he’s persistent.</em> As he watched the orange and red flames flick around in the fireplace, he chuckled, recalling the many victories he had won today, including the noticeable progress Ranboo had made. Maybe Phil was right when he said that Techno was too tough on him, but Ranboo didn’t seem to mind in the least bit. In fact, he almost seemed to take it as a challenge, as if gaining Techno’s respect and trust was a quest to complete. It was a stark contrast to--<br/>
<br/>
He cut his thought process off, turning quickly away from the flames that had begun to warp into a familiar shape with the trickery of his mind’s eye. There was a low buzzing in his head as Techno desperately grappled for something, anything, to distract him. Fortunately for him, there was a muffled thumping from upstairs that drew his attention, and the buzzing faded to a low hum as Philza scaled down the ladder from Techno’s “bedroom”. Techno straightened up as Phil turned. To his surprise, Phil was smiling. Not the way he did when Techno delivered a witty one-liner or when one of them did something clumsy, but a warm and inviting smile. “He fell asleep,” Phil said, slowly crossing the small room to be closer to the warmth from the fireplace. This explained Phil’s behavior. He always did enjoy having someone to look after. “In my bed?” Techno griped.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s only this tired because you beat him up so bad!” The tone was a chastising one, but Phil’s face remained friendly, reassuring Techno that the damage was not actually severe. Not that he particularly cared. “Besides, you weren’t going to use it, were you?” Phil asked. The question was light-hearted, but it hung in the air and added a chill to the room that rendered the fire temporarily useless. Techno was unable to meet Phil’s eyes as he responded, “No, I wasn’t”<br/>
<br/>
There was an uncomfortable silence as Techno continued to fix his gaze on the far wall. He knew that Phil was looking at him, he could feel the piercing stare that Phil had when he was digging deep into your soul. But Techno refused to help him in any way, to give him any ammunition for anxiety.<br/>
<br/>
“You haven’t been sleeping at all, have you?”<br/>
<br/>
Techno wished he could get mad at Phil, but knew him too well to conjure up any rage at the one man that genuinely cared for him. He didn’t respond, and that was enough for Phil to know the truth.<br/>
<br/>
Techno himself couldn’t explain it. He had done the one thing that he wanted to do and L’Manburg was now nothing more than a crater, with every person that had any semblance of power now weak and scattered to the winds. The voices-- the calls that echoed in his mind-- he had done exactly what they wanted him to do. On Doomsday, they had been deafening, the only sound that could possibly drown out the splintering of the earth beneath their feet. There was elation, freedom that came when he gave in to his most primal urges, and he expected them to be quiet after he had done all that they had desperately pleaded for. And they had died down briefly. But, for whatever reason, he had become restless as the familiar whispers began to stir again. In spite of his best efforts, they grew louder--more demanding--every day. Techno would never admit it to Phil, but he was afraid. Afraid that it was no longer possible to live in peace, afraid that he could never be free, and afraid that he would spend the rest of his life fighting his own mind in isolation.<br/>
<br/>
Phil had been watching Techno silently, the slight furrow in his brow communicating his worry. Techno shifted, uncomfortable under the older man’s gaze. Phil was a trusted friend, and Techno was eternally grateful to have him around, but the way Phil could so easily see through him was always unnerving. Fortunately, Phil seemed to see the discomfort and decided not to say anything further about Techno’s emotional state. Instead, he turned and extended his hands to the fire. For a moment, the only sound was the crackling of the burning wood and the winter wind blowing outside. Techno drank in the peace, trying to savor the moment. <em>Please</em> he thought <em>Let me just pretend that everything is okay now. That I can live normally. </em>The moment was short-lived, the buzzing in his ears slowly creeping back into his consciousness. Tiny messages and images that flashed across his mind’s eye, snatches of words and phrases. <em>Blood...blood...destroy it… burn...no peace...blood...betrayal...always betrayal...always betrayed.<br/>
<br/>
Always betrayed.<br/>
<br/>
Betrayed.</em><br/>
<br/>
The word echoed in his mind, taunting him. Was that his destiny? To be betrayed? To be left behind when he had served his purpose? To be used without a second glance? He used to think that it didn’t have an effect on him, that he was fine being a mere weapon. It wasn’t until recently that he had begun to wonder what would have been if he had lived amongst the other citizens, if he had fought with them, if he had put aside his morals and ignored the voices. If he had been a person and not The Blade. Would that have been better? Is there still a chance for him to be better?<br/>
<br/>
“You miss him, don’t you?” Phil’s voice was startling after such a long silence. Techno glanced at him, but looked away quickly, avoiding eye contact. “Who?” he said. He knew who, and Phil could tell that he did. “I saw how you were with Ranboo today,” Phil continued, gently, “It reminded me of how you were back then.” Techno felt something swell in his chest. He couldn’t quite place what it was, and it was soon consumed by a fiery rage. “I don’t spend my time missing traitors, Phil,” Techno spat, “Besides, we were just using each other. There’s nothing to miss. You know that.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know that, Techno,” Phil said, with a surprising amount of sternness, “You may not want to admit it, but you were happy with Tommy here. And his betrayal wasn’t just an inconvenience to you. The destruction of L’Manburg wasn’t just a mission. Teaming with Dream wasn’t just an opportunity.” Techno gritted his teeth. <em>Damn this man and his ability to see through me. </em>He refused to say anything, choosing to instead steep in his own anger, ripping through painful memories as soon as they dared to show themselves. He refused to remember, refused to go back, and refused to acknowledge the way he had suddenly grown very cold in spite of his burning rage.<br/>
<br/>
A small thud from above caused both of the men to jump, and jolted Techno out of his own thoughts. Before he could even register what could have caused the sound, Phil was crossing the room towards the ladder. “Ranboo must’ve fallen out of bed. He’s been restless lately.” Phil wasn’t really saying that to Techno, and it was evident that Phil was no longer paying any attention to him. In a few swift movements, Phil had disappeared through the hole in the ceiling that led to the upper level. <em>Pretty fast for an old man,</em> Techno thought, smirking. Absentmindedly, he turned back to face the fire, relishing in the warmth that washed over him.<br/>
<br/>
Techno wasn’t sure what he thought about the kid yet, but Phil seemed to care for him already. Of course, Phil was always more sentimental than Techno was. He could hear muffled voices from above, Phil’s gentle whisper contrasting Ranboo’s quivering murmurs. The kid was having nightmares and was haunted by unseen ghosts. It all felt so familiar.<br/>
<br/>
Techno knew, deep down, that Ranboo wasn’t replacing anything. Still, as he gazed into the dancing flames, he couldn’t help but think about the way Ranboo laughed today as he was knocked down, again and again, refusing to give up. <em>I suppose this is what it means to move forward</em>, Techno thought, as he tossed a log into the fireplace, <em>Because maybe I can’t be better. But Ranboo...there’s a chance for him. Maybe he can be okay.</em> A loud crack sounded as the log he had added to the fire split in half and Techno watched it slowly get swallowed whole by the flames.</p>
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